


Like Breath

by FallingLikeThis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angel Harry, Angels, Angels of Death, Angst, Chaptered, Doctor Louis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Guardian Angels, Humor, M/M, Minor Character Death, Movie Fusion, Sick Characters, There is NO major character death, WIP, city of angels au, that includes children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2020-05-31 12:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: Angels aren’t like humans. They don’t experience things the same way.  Maybe that’s why Harry is so curious about humans. They know and feel so many things that will always be foreign to him. Dr. Louis Tomlinson is about to change all of that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bufonophobe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bufonophobe/gifts).



> Title is from "I Need You" by LeAnn Rimes. 
> 
> A/N: Harry deals with death a lot in this fic. He helps souls cross over. And as a surgeon, Louis deals with death sometimes too. This fic does not have major character death but does have plenty of minor character death. If that is going to be triggering or too difficult for you in any way, please do not continue.

Angels aren’t like humans. They don’t experience things the same way. Angels don’t have the benefit of human senses. They can see but they see things differently. The can hear but they hear too much, sounds and thoughts of the humans around them mixing together. They can feel but only the secondhand emotions of the humans they’re charged to watch over, soothing the worst of the anxiety and fear with a suggestion here, a whisper there. They can touch, but never feel the touch of another. Their fingertips will never know _soft_ or _rough_ or _warm._ There are no scents, no flavors. Angels hear of these things, but can’t experience them for themselves. Maybe that’s why Harry is so curious about humans. They know and feel so many things that will always be foreign to him. Harry is an angel that deals mostly with death. He finds beauty in the people he helps cross over, in the things they held dearest during their lives.

He waits patiently now for a young human’s soul to carry them into death and when they’ve crossed over, their soul standing before him, he steps in front of them.

“Hello, there,” he says with a smile.

“Hello,” they answer uncertainly. “Who’re you?”

“I’m an angel,” he tells them, his smile dimming at the sad look they get but he carries on, confirming their fears as gently as he can. “I’m here to take you Home.”

“Oh.” They glance to the side and Harry doesn’t think they expected to see themself lying there on an operating table, lifeless and still, while the doctors try to revive them. They stare, jaw dropped in shock. “ _Oh god_.”

“It’ll be alright,” Harry tries to sooth them but he can see that their eyes refuse to leave the image of their body on that table.

They reach out like they’re going to touch themself, maybe try to crawl back into their body. “Wait... Maybe they can save me.”

“Jill,” Harry says softly, garnering all of their attention when they realize that he knows their name, that this is actually real. He knows more than that. He knows that they don’t identify as strictly female, that they’re a truly good soul who’s been dealing with breathing issues for quite a while. He doesn’t mention any of that, doesn’t think he needs to because even as he says it, he can hear the beginnings of acceptance sneak into their thoughts. “I’m sorry but it’s your time.”

“But-” They cut themself off as they bring a hand to their lips to bite at their thumbnail.

Harry gently pulls their hand away from their mouth. He’s been with them the last few days so he knows this is a habit of theirs when they get stressed. He knows they hate when they do it. “Don’t worry. You’re going somewhere better. You won’t get sick or have to struggle for breath anymore. Nothing can hurt you now.”

Jill nods but Harry can tell that, on this point, they’re not quite sure if they can believe him. “I just— I wasn’t ready.” They glance mournfully back at their body again as Harry tries to guide them away.

“Death rarely comes when you’re ready for it,” Harry tells them delicately, taking their hand in an act of comfort. It seems to work and they squeeze his fingers gratefully. He can feel the pressure of it, but not the texture of their skin, not their warmth. He pauses, looking away to give them a private moment to fully accept the reality of the situation before he observes them again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Don’t see why not,” they shrug, still a little glum.

“What will you miss the most?”

It’s his favorite question to ask. The answer always a pleasant surprise to him, always another key to answering the riddle that is the human experience. And the way people light up from the inside at whatever they think of, a fondness filling their eyes, urging a smile when they most need one, _that’s_ his absolute favorite part.

“My grandmother,” Jill answers, emitting waves of love as their eyes stare distantly, thoughts of their grandmother filling their mind.

Harry smiles at them. He’s in awe of the love that humans are capable of. “Thank you,” he tells them but isn’t sure if they hear, their thoughts still on their grandmother as he leads them to heaven.

*

“Their grandmother?” Liam asks when Harry finishes telling him the story.

“Yes,” Harry nods with a smile on his face, looking out over the ledge of the rooftop they’re standing on. Every evening they meet here at the top of the tallest building in London and chat about their day- the people they met, the interactions they witnessed- as they watch the sunset, collecting all the beauty they can find in the world. But to Harry, nothing is more beautiful than the pure interactions humans have with each other. The random acts of kindness, the unconditional love. “It still amazes me, the connections humans make with each other. I think I envy them.”

“Angels aren’t capable of envy,” Liam reminds him with a disapproving glance. “And besides, _we_ connect. We’re here, right now. Connecting over our day. What’s so special about how humans do it?”

Harry gives Liam a flat look and reaches out to grasp his wrist. Liam looks down at Harry’s hand holding onto him and back up again. There is no comprehension in his eyes.

Harry sighs and releases Liam. “We _feel_ nothing, Liam. Our connections to each other are just words. There’s nothing deeper.”

“Because we’re self-sufficient without it. Humans are different. They need it to survive,” Liam explains, gaze on the horizon as he watches the sun sink from the sky.

“Well, maybe they’re luckier for it,” Harry says quietly, not sure if he wants Liam to hear. His eyes are not on the horizon, but on a young boy he can see through a window in the building across the street. The boy sits, crying on the floor surrounded by toys until his mother appears a moment later to pick him up. She soothes his cries, kissing his face and making him laugh instead. Harry smiles. Let Liam have the sunset. _This_ is Harry’s beauty.

*

“Dr. Tomlinson!” A nurse calls as she bursts frantically into the doctor’s lounge he’s been sleeping in.

“I’m awake!” Louis Tomlinson says before his eyes are even open as he springs up from his prone position on the sofa he fell asleep on. He blinks toward the nurse at the door, Perrie, and clears his throat as he wakes fully. “I’m awake. What’s happening?”

He’s up and walking before Perrie even starts talking, and it’s a good thing too.

“We have a thirteen-year-old girl with a burst appendix. Dr. Evans had to leave for some family crisis, Dr. Finlay is doing an emergency laparoscopy down in ER, Dr. Lucas is out sick with the flu, and the next on-call doctor won’t be here for another 20 minutes. I’m sorry, Dr. Tomlinson, but we’re severely understaffed tonight.”

“It’s alright,” Louis says, running a hand down his face in an effort to wake himself up more. “I’m glad I was still here. Is the girl being prepped for surgery?”

“Yes, sir. An intern is in there with her now.” Perrie informs him and something settles in Louis’ stomach. Thanks to Perrie’s quick thinking, they might be able to help this girl.

“Good. Every minute counts.” Louis nods, walking quickly beside the nurse. He’s already scared for this girl. There’s every chance that she could die if they don’t move quickly. He’ll be pissed at Evans later for not making sure he had a replacement before leaving. Or the on-call doctor for being too slow. Or Lucas for being a weak bastard out sick when his patients need him. Or maybe that’s just the heat of the moment talking. Maybe Louis will be more understanding when there isn’t a life at stake.

“I know you’ve only had a couple hours of sleep, Doctor,” the nurse flicks her eyes at Louis and he understands the concern he sees there completely. He probably looks like shit. He’d been on an eighteen-hour shift already and he feels like he’d only just closed his eyes when Perrie had come looking for him.

“I’m alright,” Louis assures her. He nods his appreciation as he ducks into the locker room to change his scrubs and then makes his way to the surgical anteroom to wash his hands and get his mask, cap, and shoe covers. 

Soon, he’s in the operating room with a little girl laying on his table, waiting for him to save her life. So, he gets to work.

* 

Louis pulls the latex gloves off his hands one at a time and tosses them in the hazmat bin. He did good today. The thirteen-year-old girl he saved will get to go home in a few days’ time with little more than a scar on her abdomen. She’ll get to see her fourteenth birthday, and her high school graduation and, maybe one day, her wedding. Louis gave her that and it feels amazing.

He smiles as he washes up after the surgery, gives the intern who had helped a pat on the back and a compliment for a job well done, and then makes his way back to the locker room to change out of his second set of scrubs for the day. He feels energized from the surgery, always does after he changes someone’s life for the better, but he knows he needs to go home and get some real sleep in his very own bed if he wants any chance at being productive during his next shift. 

Walking down the hallway toward the locker room, Louis could swear that he feels something brush past him, but when he turns to look, no one is there. Shrugging to himself, he keeps walking. His bed is calling his name.

*

Harry walks out of room 237 with his head down. It is a room filled with grief but he’s helped lighten it as much as he possibly can. He and Liam had been in the room all day, listening and easing the thoughts and hearts of a dying man’s family. When the man, Jeb, had died just a little while ago, Harry had been there to greet his soul.

“What will you miss the most?” He’d asked as always.

Jeb had paused, looking around the room at his family crying over the loss of him. “I’ll miss them. But that seems obvious. I assume you mean _what else_ will I miss the most.”

Harry was going to correct him. Family was always a nice answer, a valid answer. It made Harry want to know what it felt like to have family himself. But before Harry could say any of this, Jeb spoke again, a smile on his face that warmed the tone of his voice.

“There was an old tv show that used to come on a while back,” he’d said, pausing again to think. He snapped worn fingers together as though that would help him remember. “What was the name of it?”

“Was it a good show?” Harry had asked. It must have been if this man would miss it so much.

“Oh, no,” Jeb waved away the thought with a laugh. “I used to watch it religiously after I got home from work though. My daughter hated it. But every day it came on she’d sit next to me and watch it. It was her time with her old man.” He had looked over at a woman sitting next to his bed. She was holding his hand and crying into a handkerchief. “I’ll miss those days the most.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Harry had told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready to go?” He asked gently.

“As I’ll ever be,” Jeb shrugged, and with one last look around at his family, he’d let Harry lead him home.

Harry came back and stayed with Liam for a bit, trying to minimize the pain. He spent a lot of time with Jeb’s daughter. He’d found a faraway thought of those days on the couch next to her dad, watching a tv show she couldn’t stand just to have some time with him and lightly nudged it to the forefront. She had known that her father worked long, hard days and she wanted him to have time to unwind but she’d missed him too, so she had sat quietly next to him and just enjoyed his company. When Harry saw her smile at the memory, he knew that she would be okay.

Now, as he leaves, he’s not really looking at where he’s going. He could blink and be at his next destination but he chooses to walk, travelling the human way. When he follows in their footsteps he can _almost_ imagine feeling like one of them. Feeling warm by someone’s side, missing them when they’re gone.

Brushing past someone as he walks shouldn’t have any effect on Harry, he should be able to ignore them and keep walking. But that’s not what happens this time. This time, Harry turns to look, to see who he’s brushed against, and he finds two bright blue eyes staring back at him.

“Sorry,” Harry murmurs, stunned into stillness by those eyes. He knows that the man, Dr. Louis Tomlinson according to his hospital badge, can’t hear him unless Harry wants him to but something has compelled him to speak. Maybe it’s the light in the man’s eyes or the serenity in the man’s thoughts but Harry is drawn to him immediately.

The doctor shrugs, unbothered and turns to keep walking. Harry stays where he is, watching the man go. He knows the man couldn’t have seen him. He _knows_ that. But Harry is struck, a moment too late, by the realization that he kind of wishes he had.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with the loss of a patient. Please be safe.

“Hello, Perrie,” Louis says cheerfully as he walks into the OR. He’s already done two successful minor surgeries today and everything went smoothly for both. It’s been a nice day and Louis’ in a good mood. One more routine surgery and then he can drive home and curl up with a nice romantic comedy on Netflix.

“Dr. Tomlinson,” Perrie says with a nod and, even through her mask, Louis can hear the smile in her tone. He likes working with Perrie. “How are you today?”

“Perfect,” Louis grins behind his own mask. “And how is our patient doing?”

“Bp and heart rate are normal. The area of incision is clean. I think she’s ready for surgery doctor.”

“Excellent,” Louis says, looking down at his sleeping patient. “Let’s make her life a little bit easier then, shall we?” He holds out a steady hand to his nurse. “Scalpel.”

*

When Harry materializes at the site of his next soul reaping, the room is in utter chaos.

_ “She’s tachycardic.” _

_ “I need suction! I have to stop this bleeding!” _

Raina Leighton’s body lays on an operating table, Dr. Tomlinson bent over her, trying to save her life.

“It’s okay, Raina,” Harry says, taking the hand of the soul that stands next to him, watching just as he is. “There’s no need to be afraid.”

“I’m not,” Raina tells him, calmly. “I think I knew going into the surgery what was going to happen. I’m ready.”

Harry looks at her, giving her a soft smile. “Let’s get you home then.”

“ _ She’s crashing.” _

_ “She’s not going anywhere!” _

The frantic tone of the doctor’s voice has Harry turning to look at him. And there he freezes. Because it looks like Dr. Tomlinson is staring straight at him. Harry feels pinned in place, even after Dr. Tomlinson looks away, back at work trying to keep Raina alive.

“Are we going?” Raina’s voice, the gentle tug of her hand, brings Harry back into focus.

“Yes. I—yes. Let’s go,” Harry stutters, casting one last glance at Dr. Tomlinson. It’s the first time that Harry forgets to ask his favorite question.

*

Louis had always known he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up. Saving lives, making someone’s quality of life better when saving them isn’t really an option, those are the things that make it all worth it. But losing a patient on the operating table, that never gets easier.

Louis rips off his gloves in frustration as he storms back into the surgical anteroom, tossing them into the hazardous waste bin before leaning heavily on the counter at the sink. Everyone knows that Louis is in no mood for hugs or sad pats on the back or platitudes when he loses a patient. They know by now that he just needs to be left alone to deal with his grief. But first, he has to inform the family of his patient that he lost her.

_ Lost her _ . God, he hates that phrasing. Like she’s simply missing for the moment, like if they hope and pray, maybe she’ll return to them when Louis knows that she’s never coming back.

Louis takes a deep, shaky breath and forces himself to push his anger and confusion away. He has to at least appear calm for the family. Standing up straight, he pulls off his surgical cap and tosses it away, washing his hands thoroughly in the sink.

Once he’s washed and dried, he walks out of the room in search of Raina Leighton’s family, his heart aching with every step.

*

“I’m so sorry,” Harry watches Dr. Tomlinson say to Raina’s husband.

Her husband nods his head sadly. He’s already crying and deep inside Harry can feel a secondhand tendril of the man’s anger and confusion trying to breach the pain. He knew it was a possibility that his wife might not make it out of surgery but he’d thought the chances were slim. He’s so upset, but the doctor’s pain calls out to Harry more.

Harry watches as Dr. Tomlinson slumps away, walking toward the front door rather than deeper into the hospital. He needs to follow, to ease the hurt that’s radiating from him. Glancing around the room, Harry sees another angel leaning over a worried mother and her feverish child. Her eyes are on Harry though and she nods in understanding, rising from her perch to walk over to the grieving husband. She’ll take care of the man, ease his suffering for Harry so that he doesn’t have to be pulled in two directions.

“Thank you,” Harry tells her before following the doctor out of the hospital. He stops once he’s outside. The doctor is nowhere to be seen so Harry listens to his pain, follows it into the parking garage just as the doctor ducks into his car.

_ What just happened in there, _ the doctor thinks, distraught and panicked as he flops down in the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind him before his hands are pulling at his hair.  _ It was a routine surgery. What the hell happened? Where did that bleed come from? _

Harry watches Louis fret from the parking garage. He knows easing the minds of others is part of his job but this feels different than any other time Harry’s done it. This feels a bit like an intrusion. Still, he can’t make himself leave the doctor alone in the shape that he’s in. He vanishes for a moment, reappearing in the passenger seat of Louis’ car.

_ How did I… how did I lose her? Was there something more I could have done? Something I  _ **_should_ ** _ have done? _ Louis wonders, hands falling away from his hair as he grasps his steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip.

Harry can see that his eyes are red-rimmed and he’s biting his lip to keep from sobbing.

“You did nothing wrong,” Harry tells him softly, laying a hand on Louis’ shoulder in order to send him soothing vibes. Louis shows no signs of seeing him or feeling Harry’s touch, which is impressive on Harry’s part because he wants nothing more than to let Louis see him, let him feel Harry’s hand on him and take all the comfort that he needs from him. “It was Mrs. Leighton’s time to go. There was nothing that could be done.”

Louis closes his eyes and thinks,  _ I don’t know. Maybe it was just her time. Maybe there was nothing to be done. _

Harry nods at the direction of Louis’ thoughts. He’s not fighting Harry’s easing. “That’s right. You did everything you could do, Louis.”

Louis shakes his head like that’s one thought too far. Harry wishes that Louis would accept what he’s telling him. But Harry can’t force people to accept what he offers them. Nor would he want to. Usually, they just need a small urging to allow Harry to ease their burdens. Louis is stubborn and intent on carrying some of the blame, it seems.

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispers aloud, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry doesn’t feel things the way humans do, he knows that. But in that moment, he swears he can feel his heart breaking.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry cannot forget Louis Tomlinson. He can’t forget the way he fought so hard for his patient or the way he cried when he lost her. He can’t forget the blue of Louis’ eyes looking right through him and making him want nothing more than to be real to the other man. Harry wants to know Louis Tomlinson. So, when Harry sees him  several days later entering the grocery as  Harry’s  walking to meet Liam for their nightly ritual, he follows Louis instead.

They’re both in the produce section, both carrying baskets for their groceries. Harry may not be human, but he’s learned pretty well from watching how to imitate one.  He’s been visible before, but not with the intention of being seen. It’s a new experience for him.  Louis seems all wrapped up in choosing the perfect tomato and Harry craves that same kind of attention from him.

“Erm,” Harry says, clearing his throat and picking up a tomato from the bunch scattered in front of them. “Could you help me?”

“Hmm?” Louis asks, placing a plump, red tomato in a produce bag. “Uh, I can try,” he says as his eyes meet Harry’s.  There are dark smudges under his eyes and Harry can tell he hasn’t been sleeping enough, but he still looks beautiful. 

“I… I have no idea how to tell if they’re any good,” Harry replies, gesturing to the other tomatoes. “But you seem to have the hang of it pretty well. Would you mind giving me a quick lesson on what to look for?”

Louis eyes him skeptically and Harry bites his lip, hoping he’s not doing anything too strange. “Sure, I guess,” Louis finally answers, reaching for the tomato Harry has in his hand. “May I?”

“Oh,” Harry hands it to him, delight rushing through him that he actually has Louis’ attention.

Louis twists the tomato in his hand, checking it from every angle, squeezing it lightly, and then studying Harry again. “Are you sure you actually need help?”

“What? Yes, of course. Why?” Harry bumbles in a panic. Does Louis somehow know what Harry actually is? He doesn’t know how that could happen but the way Louis’ been side-eying him makes him think it might be possible.

Louis smirks, handing the tomato back with a little shrug of one shoulder. “Well, you picked a perfect specimen on the first try. And it wouldn’t be the first time someone used produce as an excuse to flirt with me.”

“Oh,” Harry looks down at the tomato in his hand, a strange burning in his cheeks. “I’m not doing that.” Is he? Is he flirting with Louis?

“Shame,” Louis hums, giving Harry what he thinks might be a flirtatious glance and reaching for another tomato. He brings it up in front of his face, inspecting it closely. Harry watches with rapt attention. “So, first, you should check for blemishes. Or you know, that some arsehole hasn’t stuck their thumb through it and put it back.” Louis glances at him with amusement in his eyes and Harry chuckles because that smile of Louis’ seems to be contagious. The smile grows at Harry’s laughter and Harry is glad to have caused it.

“ Right.  Look at it,” Harry says, picking up another tomato of his own. He twists his hand looking at it from all angles with Louis watching on. “Check.” He turns back to Louis, waiting for him to go on.

“Okay, next, smart arse, you want to give it a light squeeze,” Louis demonstrates, his fingertips just barely indenting the surface. “If it’s firm, it’s not ripe. If it’s got a little give, it’s good.”

Harry stares at Louis, hesitating. He can’t actually feel the tomato in his hand. How in the world is he supposed to know how much pressure to use?

“Go on,” Louis urges, nodding his head at the tomato.

Harry licks his lips, and looks at the tomato, concentrating intently on his fingertips. He tries to copy Louis, making the tomato just slightly dimple under the pressure he applies. He misjudges, thumb pressing through the skin and plunging deep into the fruit. “Oh shit,” Harry proclaims at the sight of his thumb disappearing.

“Oh my god,” Louis covers his mouth with the back of his free hand and a glance tells Harry that he’s trying not to laugh. “Sorry, but…” he breaks out into laughter, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “You’re that asshole that puts his thumb through the tomatoes.”

Harry pouts, removing the tomato from his thumb. “I’m not an arsehole if I pay for it, right?” He can’t pay for it. Angels don’t carry money around. There’s  _ usually  _ no need for it. He wipes his hand on his pants beneath the long, black duster he wears. He can’t feel the mess on it, but he can see it.

Louis laughs again. “Maybe not as much of one.”

“Heeey,” Harry whines, playfully.

“You asked,” Louis says with an impish shrug, stepping away from the produce table. “Good luck with your tomatoes. Maybe you would have had better luck asking for a phone number. Try that next time,” he grins again, giving Harry a sly wink before walking on.

Harry stares after him with a weird fluttering in his belly. When he’s been standing there for far too long, Harry peeks around to see if anyone is looking before slipping the ruined tomato back onto the table and walking quickly away.

*

Louis walks out of the hospital after another long day, a bounce in his step for the first time in a week. Besides a minor hiccup during a gallbladder removal that had been quickly and expertly dealt with, Louis’ surgeries went well all day and he’s in a good mood as he heads to his car. His first thought is to head home and get comfy in some sweats before curling up on the couch. He decides quickly that he’d rather be curling up with a good book than Netflix today and drives to the library instead of going straight home.

Louis loves the library. He loves everything about it, from the way the walls are lined with windows that either brighten up the whole space or cast a melancholy grey on rainy days to the hushed atmosphere where the turn of each page is a whisper of the story it tells. He loves the smell of actual books. Sure, he has an e-reader, like most people these days, but he’d rather hold a book in his hands. He smiles at the librarian as he passes the circulation desk, walking straight towards a random section of shelves. He prefers not to look directly for a certain title for his next literary journey. Instead, he likes to roam the shelves and pick one at random. Out in the world, when he’s not dealing with life or death issues, Louis loves a good surprise.

Stopping to stretch for a book on the top shelf that calls out to him, Louis has to stand on his tiptoes to try to reach it. He’s almost got it when someone comes barreling into him.

“Oh, goodness!” A slightly familiar, deep voice says, the stranger’s hands catching Louis by the hips to keep him from toppling over even as his own book tumbles from his hands to the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” Louis smiles as he looks directly into green eyes that he knows. His stranger isn’t such a stranger after all. “Tom Thumb.”

“What?” Those green eyes crinkle in confusion. “My name is Harry.”

“No, I just meant…” Louis backtracks stumbling over his words as he realizes that not everyone is inside his brain and can understand the jokes he amuses himself with. “It’s just… you… put your thumb… through a tomato. You know what, nevermind. Wasn’t funny. I’m Louis, by the way.”

Harry smiles, nose scrunched like he’s maybe holding back a laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Louis. Officially, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Louis answers, a bit breathless at the smile Harry’s directing at him. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

*

The library is the only place on Earth that Harry allows himself to be seen apart from the grocery where he spoke to Louis for the first time. So, it feels a little bit like fate for him to run into Louis there when he’s not expecting it.

Bending to pick up the book he’d dropped, Harry rises to find Louis still smiling at him and he returns the smile with one of his own. Perhaps it’s the fondness he feels coming from Louis, but he can’t quite temper the strength of his own grin. 

“What were you reading there?” Louis gestures to the book in Harry’s hands. 

“It’s called  _ The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake _ ,” Harry tells him, opening the book and gazing at the words inside. “It’s about a little girl who discovers that she can taste people’s emotions in the food they cook.” Harry feels like he can relate a little, always getting a small taste of other people’s emotions. 

“Interesting,” Louis hums. “Do you like it?”

“It’s good so far,” Harry says but honestly, he’d been hoping for more descriptions of the flavors and textures, things he can’t experience even secondhand. His curiosity remains unsated for the time being. 

“Do you think lemon cake tastes particularly sad?” Louis asks and Harry feels a slender thread of something he’d felt when Louis winked at him at the grocery store. Louis is flirting. Harry’s heart does something weird in his chest at the knowledge. 

“What do  _ you _ think lemon cake tastes like?” Harry turns the question around. He has no answer himself but he finds himself leaning in closer to hear Louis’ answer.

Louis’ grin twists, a crooked smirk that Harry thinks makes him look devilishly handsome, even more so than usual. He sits cross-legged on the floor and gestures for Harry to do the same. They’ve got their own private spot, right there in the aisle between bookshelves. So Harry sits and waits, watching Louis look up toward the ceiling as he speaks, his tone thoughtful. “I think it depends on the baker but typically, it’s kind of tangy. Almost like a sting that sits in your mouth even after you’ve swallowed. But it’s a light sting because the cake is like a fluffy bit of cloud that sort of smoothes it out. So… not sadness, exactly. Maybe regret. The way the flavor lingers even when the cake is gone.”

“Perhaps  _ you _ should be the one writing books,” Harry tells him, dropping his book into his lap and basically forgetting about it. He’s a bit more enthralled by Louis’ description than anything he’s read in it so far. 

“Oh, yeah. I really missed my calling. I should quit surgery and be a writer instead,” Louis chuckles lightly.

_ Be impressed _ , Harry hears him think. The thought comes without Harry actively trying to hear Louis’ mind. He’d never intrude on someone’s thoughts when he’s not meant to be helping them. He hears it because Louis is directing the though  _ at him _ and Harry likes the fact that Louis cares if he’s impressed by him. 

It shouldn’t matter what Louis does for a living or what he wants from Harry. Harry should have no feelings about him one way or another beyond being there to ease some suffering should he need it or help his soul cross over when it’s his time, but that is not the case anymore. Harry does care about Louis Tomlinson. Much more than should be possible. 

“You’re a surgeon?” Harry asks as though he doesn’t already know. “That’s really impressive.”

Louis preens at Harry’s interest and Harry almost preens himself at causing it. He doesn’t know exactly why Louis Tomlinson matters so much, all Harry knows is that he does. Something in his heart knows it too because it acts funny the whole time they sit there chatting, long past when Harry is supposed to meet Liam at sunset. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with sick children in an oncology ward. Please be kind to yourself and skip that part if you can't handle it. If you need to scroll past it or click the link for the end notes and scroll back up, you will see this ~~~~~~~~ separating the two parts of the chapter so you'll know when the second part starts.

A lot of Harry’s work takes place at the hospital. People die every day and their souls need to cross over, so he’s always spent a lot of time there. Helping souls, easing the burden of their loss for their families and soothing the minds and hearts of the families of the chronically ill. He’s never really had reason to pay attention to the staff before but now that he’s struck up a tentative friendship with Louis, he’s noticing a lot more than he ever has before. He’d crossed paths with Louis when he was walking into the hospital today and before he would have just walked past, too intent on where he was supposed to be to notice the people around him, but today he smiles and hopes to himself that Louis has a good day before moving on. 

He’s in the pediatric oncology wing today, watching over a very sick three-year-old boy and his mother in the playroom. His mother knows how sick he is and she struggles not to cry most of the time. Harry helps her find strength in front of her son but it’s not always enough. It’s such a source of wonder for Harry because he can feel that the child, as young as he is, worries about his mother when she cries. There’s confusion mixed with his worry because he’s three and can’t quite grasp why she’s so sad. Harry can tell that the little boy is incredibly smart though. Perhaps it’s the secondhand emotions from the mother but Harry thinks he almost feels like crying too sometimes. He doesn’t even know if he’s capable of tears. Angels don’t cry, but he finds that he can’t deny the mother’s indignation for her son’s sickness. It’s not fair that he only gets such a short amount of life to live. Harry feels… he feels frustration, almost anger. He’s never felt such strong secondhand emotions before. He’s not sure how much help he can be calming the mother when Harry finds himself agreeing with her angry thoughts.

Just when Harry thinks he might need to step away for a moment, a squeal from across the playroom captures his attention. He watches as a little girl with no hair and a brilliant smile throws herself into the arms of the doctor that’s just entered the room.

“Now, Emmaline,” Dr. Tomlinson chuckles as he hugs her tightly. “You know you have to keep it down in here.”

“Sorry, Dr. Tommo,” Emmaline says, standing there primly when Dr. Tomlinson puts her down. “I get too excited sometimes. My mum always says that.” 

“It’s alright,” he laughs again, crouching down to her height and bopping her on the nose. “Just try and remember next time, yeah?”

“I will,” Emmaline promises with a very serious nod of her head. “Are you here to visit me?”

“Of course I am,” Dr. Tomlinson says, leading Emmaline to a tiny table and sitting in one of the tiny chairs. “I’ve got a whole hour free. What would you like to do?”

“Can we draw pictures?” Emmaline asks sitting in the next chair over and already reaching for paper. 

“Will you draw me one of your famous gorillas?” 

“Of course,” Emmaline promises, passing over some paper and pulling the box of crayons to the center of the table. “Don’t I always?”

“Alright, sassy,” Dr. Tomlinson laughs, reaching for a crayon. 

Harry almost forgets that he’s got a job to do as he watches Louis and the little girl converse over crayon drawings. When he turns back to his charges, he feels no anger from the mother or worry from the son. They’re both emanating happiness. It’s curious. Their feelings from before seemed so overwhelming and they’d changed so suddenly. Perhaps instead of helping, Harry had been hindering them. He’d been building on their negative emotions instead of soothing them. And that… that’s a problem. 

But Louis showing up had made Harry forget what he was doing. He’d been the one spreading joy and maybe while he’d been watching, Harry had picked up on that joy and somehow shared it with the mother and her son. 

Soon, Dr. Tomlinson and Emmaline are sharing their crayons and paper with two more people and Harry is looking at Louis Tomlinson like he’s the answer to a question Harry didn’t know he’d been asking. 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

“You’re different,” Liam says after they’ve been quietly staring at the sunset for the better part of an hour. 

“I’ve never been normal,” Harry chuckles humorlessly. He’s never been quite like the other angels. He’s always known that. He’s too curious and fascinated by humans. 

“No,” Liam shakes his head but his eyes never leave the sunset. It’s like it’s his duty to make sure that it sets and doesn’t pop up and say ‘just kidding, I’m not ready for bed’. “I mean, yes. You’ve always been different. But lately, you’re even  _ more _ different.”

Harry stares at the side of Liam’s face. “I know I’ve missed a few sunsets, Liam, but you’ve missed some too before.” There’s  _ something _ , a staticky sort of apprehension in Harry’s chest when Liam finally turns to look at him. Well,  _ that’s _ certainly different. 

“It’s not just that,” Liam tells him. “It’s everything, Harry. You speak differently, more… I don’t know, emotive? Like just now, you seemed almost defensive. And you move differently. I can’t describe it but it’s not your usual, calm demeanor.”

“Maybe that’s true,” Harry concedes, hanging his head. He is different lately. He’s been pulling away from his usual routine more and the feelings he picks up on are stronger than they used to be. He raises his eyes to meet Liam’s and finds the other angel still watching him. “Is change really so bad though?” 

Liam keeps studying him, a crinkle in the middle of his brow. “I just didn’t know angels were capable of change.”

That statement sticks with Harry for a long time.  _ Are _ angels capable of changing? And if they aren’t, what does that mean for Harry?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you're enjoying it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE Thank you to [Lynda](https://wait4ever.tumblr.com/) for helping me find my footing again.

“Hello again,” Louis says with a smile, walking up behind Harry where he’s sitting, bent over a book in one of the armchairs in a corner of the library. It’s become sort of a thing for them, meeting at the library. It’s never planned but Louis is always happy to see the other man when he happens upon him there. And maybe he’s started going more often just in case Harry will be there. 

“Oh,” Harry blinks, looking up at him with a delayed smile. “Hello.”

Louis moves to the chair next to Harry. It’s angled towards him, probably to make talking easier so that it can also be quieter. Sitting down on the edge of the seat, Louis leans forward encroaching slightly on Harry’s space. “Everything alright?” he asks, concerned. Harry doesn’t actually seem all that happy to see him and that has his heart clenching in his chest. Harry has seemed distracted a lot lately when they meet like this.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry answers, waving away the question like there’s no cause for concern, but he’s not very convincing. “Just a lot on my mind the past few weeks.”

So there definitely _ is _ something he’s dealing with. 

“Can I help?” Louis scoots a little closer to the edge of his seat, a little farther into Harry’s space. He wouldn’t normally try to insert himself into someone else’s problems, especially not someone he’s known for such a relatively short time, but he really thinks that he and Harry have a connection. Something rare and wonderful that can either turn into a beautiful friendship or possibly blossom into something even deeper and more precious. 

Harry’s eyes meet his in an intense stare, as though he hadn’t been expecting the offer. Maybe he’s used to having to shoulder his burdens alone. Louis hopes they’ve become close enough that Harry will realize he doesn’t have to anymore.

“Oh,” Harry breathes. Perhaps he’s coming to that conclusion now, maybe he’s just had a revelation. He seems dumbfounded by it, like he’s not sure how to move forward from it.

“It’s alright,” Louis tells him softly, touching his hand with an understanding smile. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But if you need someone, I hope you know that I’m here.”

“I, um.” Harry looks a bit uncomfortable and unsure of the situation, so Louis draws his hand back, afraid that  _ he’s  _ the problem right now. But Harry reaches out to grasp it, returning it to where it was and laying his other hand on top of it to keep it there. “Sorry, I’m just not sure how to need someone, I guess. I’ve never really done it before.”

“It’s okay to need someone,” Louis assures him, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “And I’m more than happy to be your someone.”

Harry looks thoughtful at Louis’ words, giving him a shy smile. “My someone,” he repeats softly, a sparkle to his eyes that just makes Louis want to get even closer to him. “I like the sound of that.”

_ Those words _ , they’re the same ones that Louis had said. He’d said he’d be Harry’s someone but he’d meant someone to lean on. The way Harry said them sounded like something entirely different. Something  _ more _ . Those words from Harry’s mouth set something alight inside Louis and suddenly his fingertips on Harry’s hand tingle with anticipation. 

“Me too,” he confesses, a ghost of a whisper. 

Harry studies him curiously. “Do you need someone, too?” he wonders innocently, completely misconstruing Louis’ confession. 

“Sometimes,” Louis answers with a smile that probably looks as false as it feels but Harry doesn’t seem to notice, his sweet smile growing larger, warmer.

“I could be your someone,” he offers, not knowing that he’s saying the most perfect words the absolute wrong way. 

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, gently disentangling their hands. “Sounds perfect.” He’s gotten his hopes up but perhaps he’s been reading Harry all wrong. Maybe he’s not into Louis the way Louis had thought he was. Maybe he really does just need a friend. Louis can be that. He likes Harry, friendship with him should be easy if Louis can tamp down this crush he’s been building up this whole time. “Uhm,” he clears his throat, scooting back in his seat a bit, distancing himself. “Was there something you needed to talk about?”

“Right, yeah,” Harry says, seemingly disappointed by the direction of the conversation, as though he’s not exactly thrilled about having to think about his problems again. “It’s just something someone said to me that’s stuck with me, I guess.”

“What did they say?” Louis asks, unable to stop the hint of steel that’s snuck into his tone at the idea that someone may have said something unkind to Harry. Louis hasn’t known him long but everything he does know points to Harry being a completely lovely person who doesn’t deserve such treatment. 

Harry leans forward in his seat, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees while he clasps his hands together. He stares at the floor, biting his lip while he searches for the words to answer Louis. Finally he sighs, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “It doesn’t really matter what he said. It’s just… I’m not sure that I’m who I’m supposed to be anymore. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Harry looks so bothered, like his whole world is on the verge of crumbling, that Louis can’t help reaching out again. He leans forward, grasping Harry’s wrist lightly. “Hey,” he calls delicately when Harry stares at his hand instead of meeting his eyes. It gets Harry to look up at him. “Nobody else gets to decide who you’re supposed to be. That decision is entirely up to you, Harry. And life is full of shifting circumstances, things happen. Terrible, horrific things and wonderous, beautiful things. And all of those things can change a person. You’re  _ allowed _ to change, Harry. We all are. We all  _ do. _ There’s no stopping it, really.”

“There’s not?” Harry asks, staring at Louis like he’s the answer to life, the universe, and everything. 

His hand is on Harry’s cheek before he can stop himself, thumb rubbing gently over the edge of his jaw. “No.”

It feels like a moment. No, a  _ moment _ . Harry’s hand reaches up and circles Louis’ wrist but doesn’t pull his hand away from his face. The way he’s staring at Louis, Louis is almost certain that Harry is going to kiss him. And he’s absolutely 100 % sure that he is going to let him. But Harry doesn’t kiss him, he just smiles at Louis, gratitude on every plane of his face. 

“Thank you, Louis,” he says utterly sincerely. “I think you make a good ‘someone’.”

Louis smiles sadly, giving Harry’s jawline one last caress of his thumb before pulling his hand away. “Happy to help.”

“You really did.” Harry means it, Louis can tell. His whole demeanor has changed, open and free in a way it hasn’t been the last few times they’ve met. “Can I return the favor? Do  _ you _ need someone now?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay for now,” Louis says, sitting back in his chair. “I  _ could _ use a night out,” he mutters to himself, letting his head fall against the backrest. He could use someone to get his mind off the lovely, oblivious fool that can’t seem to see how much Louis likes him.

“Okay!” Harry chirps, catching Louis completely off-guard. 

“What?” Louis asks, raising his head so fast he nearly hurts his neck doing it. 

“Okay, I’ll take you out tonight,” Harry says. like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Which, under normal circumstances, yes, it might be, but after Harry  _ hadn’t  _ kissed him and after Louis had just given up hope of anything like this happening, it seems completely out of left field at the moment. “Where do you want to go?” Harry questions happily just before his lips turn into a thoughtful pout and his brow furrows adorably. “And how much do you think it will cost?”

Louis fishmouths. He’s still not sure. Did… did Harry just ask him on a date?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, thank you for not giving up on this fic! Hopefully, I am back to regular updates now.

**Author's Note:**

> If you notice any tags that I have forgotten, please let me know.


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